


Firm Hand

by MrsRidcully



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chris is so done with Peters shit, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Non consensual / under negotiated spanking, Peter Hales red behind, Peter is a sassy sassy little shit, Pre-Relationship, petopher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: A kinktober story in which Chris is cranky and Peter is insufferably smug, until he’s not.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	Firm Hand

**Author's Note:**

> A little late to the party but a short ( not so sweet) story for Kinktober . As always much love for Bunnywest and her ninja tweaking and comma wrangling.

“I told you to stay back and let me handle this.” Chris stalked towards Peter - if he were a wolf, his eyes would be flashing and his teeth bared. Peter fought the very real urge to bare his throat to the hunter, but that wouldn’t do - he was no beta to be chastised-he was the damn Alpha here, not  _ Chris fucking Argent. _

Chris stood in front of Peter breathing harshly through his nose, brows furrowed in anger. It wasn’t fair how good the man looked when he was pissed off.  _ Well _ , Peter thought,  _ I’m about to piss him off more. _

He looked down at the torn remnant of his shirt and sighed. He really did like that shirt, and now it was covered in harpy blood as well as a fair bit of his own. The fight was tougher than he’d predicted, but he wasn’t going to tell Mr. Hunter Man that.

“Look, the cuts are already healing - no permanent harm done. I’m fine. Besides, I’m a big boy now. I can fight the bad monsters all on my own.” Peter snipped. 

“You’ve been doing it too often, Hale, putting yourself at risk and not calling the pack to back you up!” Chris growled out. Peter saw him clench and unclench his fists, like he wanted to hit something or someone.

“I’m doing the job any half-good Alpha would do,  _ Argent. _ I’m protecting the Hale lands and the pack,” Peter hissed.

“And how would the pack fare if you got yourself killed, Peter!” Chris’s voice took on a strange tone, his bright blue eyes boring right into Peter’s heart.

“They’d survive. They have Derek and Stiles to keep them safe, and the spark would pass to Derek, as it should.” Peter sighed. He was growing tired of this argument - really, what did Argent want?

“Do you think getting yourself nearly killed time and again is washing away your guilt, your sins?” Chris stood close enough that Peter could see the way the skin ticked under Chris’s jaw. 

Chris’s comments hit hard - and deep - but there was no way he would give him the satisfaction of seeing that. Diversions and lies were his old friends, and he would call on them now. “I feel no guilt, and I think if we’re going to talk about sins you have more than enough of your own, Christopher,” he sneered, aiming to hurt.

He wasn’t expecting Chris to grab him by the scruff of his shirt, or to be dragged to a fallen tree stump and thrown over it. Smirking, he looked over his shoulder. “Well if you wanted to fuck, you could have just asked me nicely, I could do with letting off a little steam.” Peter swung his bottom. “A little hate fuck between old friends?” Peter winked at Chris, letting out a startled yelp when his near-new jeans were yanked down.

  
  


The cold air was a shock, but not as much as the slap across his bare ass. Damn, that hurt. Okay, Chris must be really pissed. “Ow! You brute, I said sex, not whatever this is.” His complaints were cut short by another swift slap to his bare behind, and another. 

“I told you’ - slap - “to wait for me.” Another slap. “I told you to stop putting yourself in harm’s way.” Slap - slap. Peter’s ass was really starting to sting now, but there was something else stirring within him. Chris's words and the solid slaps to his ass were making him think. 

Maybe he  _ had _ been rash. Maybe he  _ was _ seeking some sort of atonement. 

Slap. Slap. “Did you even  _ think _ how Derek would feel losing you again? How  _ I  _ would feel?” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter bit out. He blinked back the unexpected tears. Why the  _ fuck _ was he crying? He was a damn Alpha werewolf and here Chris Argent was paddling his ass like he was some unruly toddler, and Peter was  _ letting him _ . He could break the hunter in two if he wanted - but he didn’t want to, not really. Why was that, exactly?

“No you’re not sorry, not yet, but you will be,” Chris growled out. Another volley of stinging slaps, and Peter’s brain stopped working. He groaned and bit his lip, fighting the urge to beg for more, for the spanking (because that's what it was, he couldn’t deny it) to be harder. 

Peter lost count of the hits Chris’s broad palm laid on his tender backside, but by the time Chris was done his head had found a soft floaty place, unfamiliar but welcome. He let out a soft whimper when Chris pulled his trousers up, and nearly balked when he felt himself lifted and held in Chris’s arms, except - damn, the man smelt good, the steady thump-thump of Chris’s heartbeat a comforting counterpoint to the dull throb in his backside.

Chris was petting his hair and murmuring something - words, ugh, Peter’s brain was still not functioning enough to deal with words - but apart from the almighty throb of his well-spanked ass, he felt good, and that in itself was enough to shock him. But even worse was the uncomfortable realization that he’d needed this for a while...Peters’s head came out of the fog with a start. He pulled himself out of the hunter’s grip, wincing - why hadn’t his healing kicked in, what the fuck had Chris done to him? Anger was the best cure for uncertainty and those pesky feelings getting his ass spanked hard had dredged up.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Peter shot Chris a glare.

Chris arched a brow and gave an insufferable smirk. “I spanked your ass, Peter,” he answered dryly.

“Oh I’m very aware of that,” Peter snapped. “Why am I still feeling it?” Peter tried not to think too hard about why the sting in his ass gave him some twisted sort of comfort.

“You needed that, Peter. This path of self-destruction stops now. And why are you still feeling it?” Chris gave a smug smile. “One, I’m very good at spanking unruly boys’ asses, and two, let’s just say Stiles isn’t the only Spark in Beacon Hills.”

“Motherfucker,” Peter hissed out. “How long? Just - _ how? _ ”

“Watch the potty mouth, Peter. As for how long? Since I was sixteen. Gerard and Kate never knew, and I’d rather we keep it between ourselves.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Peter glanced over at Chris. Things between them had shifted somehow, it was confusing him and he didn’t like to be on the back foot. “Why did you do it though, spank me?”

“You needed it. You actually need a lot more, but I don’t think you're ready to admit that, either to me or to yourself yet.” Chris sighed and stood up.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Peter found himself looking at Chris’s hands. Big, strong, hands that were just moments ago swatting his backside, the same hands that had stroked and petted his hair after, like he was something... _ precious. _ Shaking the stupid thoughts out of his head, Peter turned to stalk away.

“Peter,” Chris spoke behind him, “Come find me when you’re ready to talk.”

“I’ll be sure to pop around next time I want my ass paddled, Christopher.” Peter grouched out, not looking back. Like hell he would. Chris’s laughter followed him out of the woods.

Later though, the pleasant sting in his backside as he sat in his comfortable chair at home had him thinking that maybe…maybe he would.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always adored <3


End file.
